


A Face Like My Own

by Pennycress (Panadopolis)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Class Differences, Class Issues, Cyborgs, Gen, Implied Gender Dysphoria, Non-binary protagonist, Servants, Trains, Worldbuilding, cyborg underclass, futuristic setting with Victorian influences, maybe vaguely cyberpunk, post-apocalyptic i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-15 09:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panadopolis/pseuds/Pennycress
Summary: A world reborn after the Old World was destroyed during the Fall. A world divided between workers of the districts and citizens of the city. A world where select children are chosen to become cyborgs and raised as servants for the noble families of the Capital.Though the ruling Duchess treats Morgan as an adopted daughter, Morgan was always a curious child, and longs to know more of the districts that serve the Capital and its outlying shell cities. But when Morgan and the other royal cyborgs accompany the Duchess to the textile district, a chance encounter leaves Morgan questioning their idealistic daydreams of the districts, and their very identity...Oneshot featuring the reflections of a non-binary cyborg.





	A Face Like My Own

The train rolled out of the utilidors comprising the underbelly of the Capital and burst out into sunlight.

I pressed my face to the window. It was the first time I had ever left the Capital, and certainly the first time I had ridden in the royal carriage of Her Majesty’s Railway. Unlike the rapid-transit trains to the shell cities, the royal carriage was modelled after the steam engines and luxurious passenger trains from the Old World, and travelled along the open countryside instead of enclosed tubes.

I gaped at the blue skies and endless fields of wheat. This must be the agriculture district, where workers provided food for the city and raw materials for the textile district. On the horizon were gleaming crystal domes – these would be greenhouses housing those plants that could not survive in the hostile climate of the New World, thanks to the Fall.

It was a great privilege to see these fields. The population was relegated between the workers of the outlying districts and the citizens of the Capital or its shell cities, with class boundaries strictly enforced. Few citizens got to leave the confines of the city, never mind ride in the royal carriage. But then, I was not an ordinary citizen.

I noticed my reflection in the train window. My gaze immediately fell upon my right eye, which flickered like a ruby in firelight.

Click. My mechanical eye flashed as it captured images of the fields, uploading them to my memory module. Click. Each image was a stream of zeroes and ones, and a memory to be treasured.

Click, click, click.

“Settle down, Morgan dear,” called an airy voice. “Trust me, those fields get _ dull _ after the first hour. Now, why don’t you come and join us?”

I turned my head, carefully hiding my scowl. Cyborgs were trained to be polite and cordial to their masters at all times, and to mask emotion when necessary. The Duchess was reportedly kinder than most, but she still expected us to be on our best behaviour as servants of the Crown.

I left my seat and walked over to the Duchess’s booth. Several guards lined the carriage, watching my every movement.

The two guards standing beside the booth drew the curtains aside, revealing her royal presence the Duchess. She was wrapped in her usual fur coat (an even greater luxury than in the Old World, for very few animals were still extant), a silk scarf, and a hat with a peacock feather. I curtsied to her, though it made my stomach clench, as usual.

“Why aren’t you wearing your dress?” the Duchess remarked reproachfully. “I picked it out special for this occasion. I would have thought you were _ dying _ to get out of that horrid uniform.”

“I’m used to it, mistress,” I said quietly. “It is what all cyborgs are required to wear on duty. I find it comfortable and familiar.” I bowed my head in meekness.

My statement was, in some sense, a lie. Cyborg uniforms were not segregated by sex: all wore the same basic gray uniform with jacket and trousers, with minor alterations permitted based on their job classification and their master’s tastes – mine was decorated with gold trim, as one of the royal cyborgs. Combined with a short-cropped hairstyle, one could easily pass as either a girl or a boy… or, perhaps, something else.

The Duchess laughed shrilly. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief – my reaction had amused her, instead of angering her.

“Morgan dear, you’re not on duty! This is an _ excursion!”_ She smiled, her teeth gleaming like a pearl necklace. “Today is the royal visit to the textile district, and I brought you three darlings along for some company. I thought you’d enjoy the novelty – it must be so _ dull _ being cooped up in the Palace all day!”

I rather suspected the Duchess had motives apart from charity in mind. It was well known that the Duchess was easily bored, and though she was a social butterfly by nature and could deliver speeches with poise and grace, she found the annual visits to each of the outlying districts distasteful. On the other hand, she enjoyed the company of the royal cyborgs, being childless herself and wanting the ability to flaunt her status besides. To own even a single cyborg was a symbol of considerable status, and only the most prestigious and wealthy of families could afford two or more.

Still, I kept my lips pursed tight. Cyborgs had more respect and status than a mere servant, but it was unwise to openly express dissent for one’s master. The scars from the Android Uprising were still deep – all androids and machines capable of advanced AI were permanently decommissioned, and cyborgs were relegated to an underclass expected to be subservient to humanity’s wishes.

“I am grateful to you, mistress,” I murmured, bowing my head. Taking another curtsey, I then took my seat in the Duchess’s booth.

I quickly glanced around the booth. The Duchess had Nikolai seated beside her, as usual. He had his head bowed low as he fiddled with a soft toy. His curly brown hair puffed up like a pastry. Unlike me, he was wearing the special outfit the Duchess picked out for him – suspenders, a white dress shirt, a red bow tie, stockinged feet that dangled high above the floor.

He was the Duchess’s favourite. He was ‘absolutely_ adorable'_, thanks to his baby face and his lack of external cybernetics – unlike most cyborgs, his modifications were entirely internal (life support systems, a cognitive implant, the microchip implanted in all cyborgs). He was also much younger than most cyborgs sent for duty – he had graduated early from his training, thanks to his unusually high scores in cognitive abilities and compliance.

Seated next to me was Edmund, who nodded curtly at me. He had his captain’s uniform on today, the one with the modified sleeve to show off his mechanical arm. With his stoic face and neatly combed hair, he looked very much like a toy soldier from the Old World. He had his back straight and his arms neatly folded in his lap, the very image of respectability and obedience.

I didn’t get to see him much – he served under the Duke instead of the Duchess, and worked in military planning and other secretive fields required of the Crown. But, he was still a member of the household, and a royal cyborg all the same. I considered him my sibling, just as the Duchess considered him one of her ‘darlings’.

“Now we’re all here!” the Duchess called, smiling at us. She gestured to the silver tea platter laid out on the table in front of us. “Would you like some tea, my dears?”

“Yes, mistress,” I murmured, though I did not particularly care for tea.

“No, ma’am,” Edmund said curtly, shaking his head.

Nikolai mumbled something.

“Oh, what was that, Nikolai dear?”

Nikolai bolted upright, and his eyes went wide. “I s-s-said yes, m-mistress!!”

Poor Nikolai was petrified of infuriating the Duchess. Cyborgs were constantly watched, and there were ample ways to punish those who stepped out of line, thanks to the anti-machine defenses developed for the Android Uprising. Nikolai was always a sickly child, even with his cybernetic life support systems – having his mechanical systems disabled by neutralizer would likely be fatal.

Still, we gave the Duchess no cause for concern. Nikolai of course was submissive to her every whim. While Edmund had a certain obstinate, even insolent, streak, he did not care to violate the routines ingrained into us during our training. As for myself, the Duchess was largely amused by my occasional acts of impudence. She likened it to a teenage daughter’s rebellious phase – one that would eventually fade, and leave an elegant young lady. The garish pink bedroom set aside as my living quarters in the Palace made it very clear what kind of person the Duchess wished me to become.

Without being asked, I rose from my seat and delicately poured out three cups of tea, passing them along the table. It usually fell upon me to tend to the Duchess and carry out those tasks not covered by her other servants – Nikolai was too delicate for this sort of work, and Edmund was usually busy with his own duties with the Duke.

Edmund rose and stood aside, letting me slide all the way to the window seat.

Once we were both seated, I discreetly tapped against his foot. I mimicked the familiar binary code – one tap for a zero, twice for a one. 01110100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011 01111001 01101111 01110101. _ Thank you_.

To my surprise, he tapped something back. 01011001 01101111 01110101 01110010 01100101 01110111 01100101 01101100 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101. _ You’re welcome. _

I sipped at my tea and watched the window through the corner of my mechanical eye, capturing yet more images. We passed more of the wonderful golden wheat fields, with cottages dotted on the horizon – these must be homes for the farmers of the agriculture district. I wondered what it would be like to be one of those farmers, and live under open skies instead of the gilded cage of the Palace.

The Duchess’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. “Would you like to play a game, my darlings?”

“Whatever the Duchess wishes,” I automatically replied. Edmund and Nikolai nodded in agreement.

“What would you like, my dears? We have several of the classicals from the Old World-”

“In that case, let us play chess,” Edmund suggested.

The Duchess laughed shrilly. “Surely not – anything but that! Edmund would _ always _win.”

While many cyborgs demonstrated an aptitude for chess, Edmund was a true master. He combined the raw computing power of the famed Deep Blue with the cunning and ruthlessness of the Old World’s grandmasters. It was no wonder that the Duke had selected him as his personal strategist.

“Why don’t we play one of those charming board games – the ones with the dice and old-fashioned game pieces? That way, any one of us could win.”

Edmund scoffed, betraying a rare hint of emotion. “Such inelegant games of chance and luck. You may as well let a random number generator decide the winner.”

“I… I’ll play with you, mistress,” Nikolai mumbled. “Then Edmund and Morgan can play chess or anything they want.”

“Why, you’re so sweet, Nikolai dear!” The Duchess ruffled his hair. “That sounds perfect. I can play with dear little Nikolai, and Edmund can act as a kind gentleman to his sister.”

“Sibling,” I muttered under my breath.

The Duchess pulled out a small silver bell from her coat pocket and rang it. Three sharp peals echoed.

The curtain was pulled aside by a black-suited security guard. I immediately noticed the neutralizer tucked in their belt, and gulped. I was jammed exactly once during my training, as part of a demonstration of what we could expect for disobedience, and I distinctly recalled the extremely unpleasant experience. It had ripped away the familiar stream of zeroes and ones, and left my mechanical systems aching in agony besides.

“Get us one chess set, and one of the classical board games – surprise me,” the Duchess ordered.

The guard nodded. A few minutes later, they returned with some boxes and carried away the tea tray.

We spent the next hour or so wiling away at our games. Edmund patiently played teaching games with me, setting up different positions and discussing optimal strategies over the next hundred moves. Meanwhile, the Duchess played a colourful board game with Nikolai. It was likely a game designed for young children – despite his intelligence and his position as the royal mathematician, the Duchess insisted on treating him as a small child.

I risked glances out the window where I could. The fields of wheat had given way to cotton and flax. We must be nearing the textile district.

Indeed, the train slowed to a halt a few minutes later.

“Now,” the Duchess mimicked the tone of a school-mistress, “you three shall stay here in the carriage. None of the people here have ever seen a cyborg before – they’ve heard stories of course, but you may well alarm them. But you shall be safe in the carriage – we’ve got lots of guards outside.”

Poor Nikolai had his eyes wide in fear, and clutched his toy tight.

“I shall be about an hour – I expect you dears to be well-behaved while I’m gone. You may use this carriage as you wish.” She stepped out of her seat and drew aside the curtains. “I’ll see if I can get a new toy for Nikolai from one of the shops here. Oh, and a new dress for Morgan – the plain fashions here may be more to your taste.”

I bowed my head, carefully keeping my face blank. I already had seven dresses at my living quarters, and I hated them all.

The Duchess blew some quick kisses at us, then swept down the carriage. Three of her guards fell into step alongside her, forming her personal escort. Two more guards moved to stand at each end of the carriage, keeping anyone else from getting in – or out.

Once the Duchess was out of sight, Nikolai and I immediately pressed our faces to the window.

The first thing I noticed was the row of plain storefronts – a bakery, a linen-house, a laundry, and a few other small shops. It was very much unlike the High Street and department stores of the Capital that the Duchess described with such vigour and relish. Instead, it was a series of humble businesses to serve the needs of the workers of the textile district, with none of the luxuries commonplace in the Capital.

The sky was overcast here, with some light rain. It would be a welcome respite from the hot, dry days typically experienced outside the domes of the Capital. Still, I was glad to be inside – cyborgs did not like getting wet.

“Wow! Look at all the people going by!” Nikolai exclaimed.

There was a steady stream of people walking below, likely on their way to wherever the Duchess would be giving her speech. They had their heads bowed low – evidently they did not want to be caught gawking at the royal carriage by the guards visible below the window.

I was surprised by how plain the people were dressed. They had simple (the Duchess would say shabby) clothes, in grays and navy blues and other ‘dull’ colours. Perhaps all the workers in the districts had to wear uniforms, just as cyborgs did. Or perhaps they didn’t care for bright, refined clothes like the noble families of the Capital did. My curiosity nagged at me – the Duchess was responsible for our education, and we were taught very little of life in the districts.

“Do you want to come see, Edmund?” Nikolai called.

Edmund was setting up the chess board for another game. “Look all you like,” he said dully, rocking a pawn under his finger. “There is not much to see, when we are staying in the station. Even _ you _ shall get bored of it, Morgan.”

I ignored him. The same qualities that made him a brilliant strategist left him quite lacking in imagination and curiosity. Indeed, he would be far happier attending council meetings or being cooped up in the Duke’s stuffy old library of military books than having the chance to explore outside the Palace. I was mildly surprised that the Duchess had managed to get him to come along on our excursion. But then, none of us had the luxury of refusing the Duchess.

I returned to the window, and quickly became lost in elaborate daydreams about life in the textile district. Perhaps there were warehouses with big looms and spinning wheels, and tailors and seamstresses who could craft humble cloth into the finest of dresses and uniforms, and trains that came to cart the finished clothes to the city-

“Look, Morgan! That person looks just like you!” chirped Nikolai.

I gasped – one of the faces in the crowd immediately leapt out to me. It belonged to a middle-aged woman who looked remarkably like me, though perhaps aged twenty or thirty more years. I saw a clear echo of my plain looks, my shoulder-length black hair, my forlorn gray eyes.

My curiosity gnawed at me, harsher than hunger. Why did this person look like me…?

I worked the latch on the window. The Duchess preferred the windows closed, being accustomed to the controlled climate of the Capital, but all the windows of the royal carriage were adjustable, should its guests want fresh air.

Shoving open the window, I stuck my head out. I flinched as raindrops fell on my head – as tiny as they were, I was not used to the sensations.

I quickly scanned the crowd. The dark-haired woman had almost hurried out of sight.

“Hey!” I called out.

The crowd froze. Pale, gaunt faces glanced up at me. I snapped a picture with my mechanical eye, then scanned the scene. I just had time to notice that the dark-haired woman had turned back, and that the guards were reflexively reaching for their batons to deter the crowd, before someone yanked me back.

Edmund huffed as he slammed the window closed. After a moment, he released his grip on the back of my jacket. “Care to explain yourself, Morgan?” he said icily.

I glared at him. “None of your concern.”

“An unsatisfactory answer. Your behaviour is very much my concern, as it shall reflect on all the royal cyborgs. Now, _ explain yourself.”_

“Edmund!” I snapped, scowling. Now that we were free from the watchful eyes of the Duchess, I saw no need to conceal my emotions. Still, I kept my voice low to not attract the attention of the guards. “That woman looked like me! Wouldn’t you want to know why someone had the same face as you?”

“You should have ignored it,” Edmund said flatly. “It is an aberration, Morgan, nothing more. Genetic variation can only go so far.”

“Edmund, you are insufferable!” I rose to my feet and stepped over Edmund, preparing to exit the booth.

Edmund’s mechanical hand snapped out and grabbed my wrist.

“Let go of me,” I demanded. Nikolai flinched – my voice was harsh, not at all like the usual meek tone I adopted for the Duchess.

Edmund narrowed his eyes. “What are you planning?”

I huffed. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going out. I need to find that woman, and who she is.”

“It is impossible. We are to stay in the carriage.”

“I shan’t!” I snapped.

“You are violating a direct order from the Duchess.”

“I don’t care!”

“You shall not get past the guards.”

“I’ll find a way!”

Edmund tightened his grip. “You are acting very childish, and being uncharacteristically emotional. I am trying to protect you, Morgan.”

“Like how the Duchess protects us by treating us like _ children _ in a nursery?” Long-held anger simmered beneath my words.

Edmund seethed. “You dare? You should be glad she treats you like a child, and not a mere _ thing_. Many masters are not nearly so caring of their cyborgs.” He took a breath, clearly trying to control his own temper. “The Duchess indulges you, Morgan. My own master would take umbrage at your distaste for femininity, and would discipline you accordingly, _ sister_.”

“Sibling!” I snapped back.

“_ S-stop fighting, you two!” _ Nikolai shouted.

He was curled up as far away from us as possible. His eyes were wide, and he clutched his toy close to his chest.

“P-please, stop… you’re so m-mean, and s-scary…” He trembled. “You don’t m-mean it… a-about the Duchess… do you? She… she loves us… we’re f-f-family…” He sobbed.

Edmund and I stared at each other. His blue eyes glared at me, matched by my own steely gaze. A cold stalemate formed between us, each of us silently challenging the other to back down.

Finally I sunk into my seat, letting out a long sigh. “It’s all right,” I reassured Nikolai, slipping into my familiar mask. “I was… agitated, that’s all.”

Edmund and I took turns playing with Nikolai and speaking softly to him, trying to calm him down before the Duchess returned. Gradually the tears stopped, and his usual small smile returned.

My mind raced, though I kept my face calm and impassive. Perhaps Edmund was right. The Duchess was highly affectionate toward me, in her own overbearing way. She took pains to nurture my curiosity – she gave me books about the Old World and the rebuilding of human civilization after the Fall, and happily answered all my incessant questions about the Capital and its shell cities (so long as I did not pry into its ‘dull’ economic or political systems, or its reliance upon the districts). It would be unwise to risk upsetting that balance.

Still, I found my mind wandering back to the dark-haired woman. I accessed the most recent image in my memory module – though she was far back in the crowd, I found myself engrossed by her features, and captivated by a strange sense of longing.

Soon I heard footsteps echoing down the carriage. The Duchess hurried into the booth, carrying a bunch of presents for us. Nikolai got a plush rabbit with a ribbon tied around its neck; Edmund a small silk handkerchief, which he tucked into his breast pocket; and a neatly-wrapped parcel for me.

“I picked the plainest dress I could find,” she said. “It looks more like something one would wear to a funeral, but perhaps it’ll be to your taste.”

I carefully lifted up one of the corners of the parcel, revealing a dark gray material not unlike my uniform. I forced myself to smile – at least it wasn’t as frilly or garish as some of the Duchess’s previous choices.

The Duchess took her seat next to Nikolai. “Now, I trust that you’ve behaved yourselves like good girls and boys?”

Nikolai flinched. The Duchess frowned, suspecting that something was the matter.

“I tried to get outside, mistress.” It was not in a cyborg’s nature to lie, certainly not when Edmund would be quick to expose any fabrication on my part.

The Duchess tutted loudly. “And why did you do that, Morgan?”

I bowed my head. “I wanted to see what the people were like, how they lived. It was the first time I’ve ever been out of the city, and…” I took a shaky breath. “I opened the window, wanting to get a closer look. I… became rash, but Edmund talked sense into me.”

I dropped to one knee before the Duchess, bowing my head. According to custom, it was how cyborgs were supposed to receive their orders. From this position, one could not run away, and it exposed the vulnerable nape of the neck. It was the ultimate show of humility, and respect.

“I apologize for my misbehaviour, mistress. Do with me what you wish.” I fell silent, and awaited the Duchess’s sentence.

“Please don’t punish Morgan, mistress,” Nikolai begged. I heard the ruffle of clothes – he must be snuggling right up against the Duchess. She loved it when he did that, though he himself didn’t like human contact.

Silence fell in the booth. Edmund hadn’t spoken, neither defending nor condemning me. I did not understand his motives – he was usually quick to rebuke me.

Finally the Duchess broke the silence with one of her shrill laughs. “Oh, Morgan, you are _ quite _ the wily one! It’s good that you’re so eager to learn – you shall be a very well-educated young lady once you grow up. But,” her voice grew hard, “I cannot simply ignore your infraction. You can expect some revocations of your privileges, and to be watched more closely. This may also affect your participation in any future excursions.”

I nodded. It was far less harsh than what I was expecting, considering the extent of my attempted disobedience.

“Rise, Morgan. There is one more matter we must attend to before we depart.”

I rose to my feet and hovered beside the Duchess, awaiting further orders.

“I shall be making my farewell speech from the deck of the caboose, as is customary for my royal visits. I would like one of you darlings to accompany me, to show off our royal cyborgs.” She cleared her throat. “Now, Nikolai is hardly a good exemplar of a cyborg, and Edmund would be far too frightening for someone who had never seen a cyborg before.”

“M-mistress?” My voice betrayed my surprise.

The Duchess chuckled. “Don’t act so shocked, Morgan! Why, this shall be an opportunity for you to redeem yourself. After all, cyborgs are a symbol of loyalty and devotion to the Crown.”

The Duchess swept down the carriage, expecting me to follow. I fell into my customary step behind her, keeping half a stride back out of respect.

“Be sure to smile and wave, Morgan – this is supposed to be a time of celebration. Oh, and be sure they see your face – let us quell those nasty rumours of a mysterious girl in the royal carriage.”

“Yes, mistress,” I said quietly.

A guard threw open the door to the caboose. I stepped out, immediately noticing a canopy overhead. At least I would not get wet, for it was still drizzling.

A small crowd was pressed against the chain link gate at the end of the tracks. I noticed several children were at the front of the crowd, while others were carried on the shoulders of adults.

The sight of so many children bothered me, for some reason. My own childhood memories were comprised of my training days at the cyborg academy in the shell city of New Bletchley, adjusting to my mechanical systems and learning all those skills required for a cyborg to tend to their future master. Indeed, those selected to become cyborgs were typically sent to the academy as children – cybernetic surgery was far more effective at a young age, thanks to brain plasticity allowing for optimal recovery and integration of the new systems.

The Duchess’s airy voice intruded my thoughts: “This is Morgan, one of our royal cyborgs. We honour our families that bless us with cyborgs – perhaps one of your own children may find a position serving the household of the Crown.”

I waved to the crowd, noticing that several of the adults clutched their children closer.

The Duchess prattled on. I ignored her, noticing that someone with a dark head of hair was hurrying through the crowd. Could it be...?

A new face popped up against the fence. I gulped – it was her. She had come back for me, just as I had longed to search for her.

A loud steam whistle echoed, signaling that the royal carriage would leave soon.

I rushed forward, acting on pure instinct – I could not bear to lose the woman a second time.

Vaulting over the guardrail of the caboose, I sprinted over to where the woman was waiting for me, ignoring the raindrops falling on my head. 

I reached through the chain link fence and gripped her hand tightly.

“Bethany, it’s you!” the woman gasped. “They took you away, but you’ve come back...” She sobbed. “My child’s come back…”

Bethany? I frowned. That was not my name. Then... perhaps this woman’s resemblance to me was a mere aberration, as Edmund said. After all, I was Morgan, not Bethany.

No... that was not true, either. I was assigned the name Morgan, just as all cyborgs were assigned new names upon awakening from their surgery. It signified cutting ties from our old families and beginning our new lives as augmented beings, and our new role in society.

That was another benefit of conducting cybernetic surgery at an early age, at least as far as the academy was concerned: very few of us remembered our families. We were simply told that our families had volunteered us for a new life, and that it was a great honour to be chosen to become a cyborg.

But in that case… perhaps this woman had found her child, after all.

“…Mother?” The word felt strange and unfamiliar to my lips. “You are... my mother?”

“Bethany – come – I can’t lose you- _ NO! _”

Too late I heard footsteps behind me, and felt a rod jabbed into my spine. I braced my body, knowing what was coming next.

The next moments were agony. My body crumbled to the ground. My mechanical eye turned to static, then cut off entirely. Pain tore through my head. I shut my eyes tight, being in too much pain to handle visual input. It took all my strength not to scream, or cry.

Someone grabbed me. My body dangled limply, like one of Nikolai’s rag dolls.

A few agonizing heartbeats later, I was tossed back to the ground. “You’ll have to wait to interrogate it, your grace,” a gruff voice muttered. “It takes a few minutes for them to become coherent after they’ve been jammed.”

Gradually the pain faded to a dull ache. Taking several shaky breaths, I carefully opened my eyes, noticing I was sprawled on the floor of the royal carriage’s lavatory.

The Duchess glared down at me. Two of her guards were beside her, batons and neutralizers at the ready. “Explain yourself,” she demanded coldly.

I raised my chin, meeting the Duchess’s gaze. The time for meekness was over.

“She looked like me,” I said, quiet but defiant. “I only wanted to know why.”

“Blast your curiosity,” hissed the Duchess. “This was supposed to be a _ privilege, _ and now you have ruined everything. I shall need a second visit to placate the mess you have caused.” She inhaled sharply. “I have been lenient with you in the past, but perhaps it is time to take more drastic measures to control your deviant behaviour. Do not make me send you to be reprogrammed, _ darling.”_ She hissed the word with venom, and none of her usual affection.

I gulped. Reprogramming was a putative measure for those cyborgs deemed rebellious or otherwise dangerous. It was not pleasant.

“We shall continue this conversation once we’ve returned to the Palace. I would urge you to reflect on your actions, _ android.”_

I flinched. The word ‘android’ was a terrible slur for cyborgs, one that denied our very humanity.

Without another word, the Duchess slammed the lavatory door in my face.

The woman’s – no, my _ mother's _ words echoed in my mind. _ They took you away _... Rather than volunteering their children out of honour, it seemed as if people were coerced into sending their children to become cyborgs – or perhaps their children were taken away against their will. Clearly life in the districts was not nearly so pleasant or free as I had imagined.

I sighed. In a way, I was glad to be cooped up in solitude. I could not bear to see the faces of Nikolai and Edmund after what I’d done. Besides, the Duchess was correct – I needed time to think. My advanced processing modules were disabled, but my own mind would do.

I settled down and closed my eyes. I had a lot to think about, and some pointed questions to ask the Duchess.


End file.
